Time for a Dirtbunny Update

ISSUE NUMBER 1:

On Monday, Bunny's Special Sweetheart starts his radiation therapy, and today he is getting a whole big-ass diagnostic panel worked up. He will be going to the vet every Monday through Friday for the next four weeks. The Dirtbunny veterinary shuttle service can hardly wait.

Doesn't he have the cutest dog butt ever? I hope his side effects aren't going to be too bad.

ISSUE NUMBER 2:

The pipes, they are leaking:

But now we have a shiny new non-corroded trap and the Bunny kitchen is back in business.

ISSUE NUMBER 3:

The gravel between the paving stones in Dirtbunny's 1.8 billion dollar yard are more interesting than anything on The Mall except the Lincoln Memorial. So says Nephew Peter (age FIVE!), and So Say We All. For a while, these were the most important items in the universe:

There they sit, on the retaining wall, forgotten perhaps by some, but forever memorialized here on the interwebs

ISSUE NUMBERS 4 and 5:

----four----spring has sprung-ish, as evidenced by our lovely crocuses, which were not here on Sunday when the gravel was so very important.

--five--and as lovely as the crocuses are in this photo, they are outshined/outshone/outshane (OK, not "outshane," not really) by what is next to them.


There are not many reasons good enough to entice Dirtbunny to go to Maryland. For this, however, I would even go to Rockville, Maryland. Fortunately, Jesus is not asking that of me (Thanks, JC!) What are they? They are TICKETS, people. Glorious, wonderful futbol tickets for A.C. Milan & Chelsea (booo) in Baltimore in July. This is my big chance! With any luck, either The Man or Dirtbunny will be carrying Andrea Pirlo's love child by August. (The Man probably has a better shot, despite the mutual heterosexuality. Bunny doesn't make a good first impression. She's more of an acquired taste.)

Ooooh, here he is, ole Sleepy himself with our boy ADP. What? Is he not doing it for you? OK, you have two choices. You can wait, and he'll grow on you, I promise. Or, you can look for pictures of him in his European-style-not-exactly-a-speedo-swimsuit, and when you find them, you'll probably change your mind.

ISSUE NUMBER 6:




New yarn yesterday, posed here next to the almost-done dog bed.

It's the March sock club sock, designed by our friend Yarn Harlot. The pattern looks fussy, and that had better not be embroidery I see there. Guess what the name of the colorway is (or "colourway," if you are Canadian).

It's "Gertrude Skein." Hahahahahahahahahahaha

hahahahaha

[*still laughing*]

whew

ISSUE NUMBER 7:

I have changed my mind. Nicki is back in. I just love him too much to let him go, despite his rather serious flaws. But he can't come to training camp. I've decided to loan him out to God's Team, JC United, where he can play with Ricki Kaka. Let him go out and do some good, just leave the gay alone. I'm not going to his Monday convert-the-gay meetings, but he's invited to my Thursday night meetings, where we have wine, women, The Man, yarn, song, farting, beagles, futbol, take-out food, curse words, fellowship, and (often) an 8 o'clock phone call from the Old Folks.

ISSUE NUMBER 8:

Speaking of FC Dirtbunny, here's two new call-ups:

Luca Toni, Azzurri striker, and Franck Ribery, French midfielder, who are currently teammates on Bayern Munich. Also, best friends and possibly lovers.

Action sequence! Look out!

Haha. Bunny is drole.



So these guys are the other Odd Couple. (We'll talk about the Original Odd Couple some other time.) Looooca is a huge, largely immobile, uncoordinated, gorgeous, goal-scoring machine (for Bayern, anyway. He's not so much with the scoring when he's in the Azzurri kit). His job is to stand in the box with his hand up in the air, holler for the ball, and wait for someone to give him the ball, which he then heads into the goal, and when he's not offside, it actually counts as a goal. He can't make plays. He can't run. He can't dribble. He can't handle the ball. He can flop. He is an excellent flopper. Also, he can dive, to the extent that diving is different from flopping.


Franck is short and, umm, not so handsome. He can score goals all by himself, and he does, but he is also the one who gives Looooca the ball and makes Looooca look like an athlete. Franck can make plays. Franck can run. Franck can dribble. Franck can handle the ball. Franck gets fouled--a lot--and does not flop. Nor does he dive. Which is not to say that he doesn't have a little attitude problem. Word is, during winter training camp in Abu Dhabi or Dubai or somewhere, he stole the team bus and wrecked it, which was way cool----I mean, which was horribly immature and not at all what one would expect from a professional.


Franck and Loooca even get injured together and hang out in the stands together.




Whatever Franck's sellin', Loooca's not buyin'. Even in that Elmer Fudd hat with the cellphone plastered to his ear and douche-ily ignoring the pal right next to him tryin' to talk to him, Loooca brings the hot. Dirtbunny's midfield is rather weak right now (see issue number 9) and Loooca can't function without brilliance in the midfield, so he'll probably sit on the bench with me for a while, and we'll talk about hats.




And moustaches.

And tanning booths. And flopping in a more convincing manner. By the way, Hi there, Mr. Kaladze!


ISSUE NUMBER 9:




And how exactly is FC Dirtbunny doing, anyway?


Not so good. Our injury list is growing. Currently broken are Rino, Deco, Cesc, and Camoranesicamoranesicamoranesi. That leaves Franck alone in the midfield. Loooca is useless without a midfield. Gio is semi-broken but toughing it out in a zorro mask post-surgery. We need more at fullback and we need an architect. We need some subs, especially at goal since Gigi tends to be accident-prone. Fortunately, FC Dirtbunny has infinite funds. Also, league play is on hiatus for world cup qualifiers, so it's a good time for rebuilding.




ISSUE NUMBER 10:

Football is suffering.

[Capi (broken and stone-faced) and Sleepy (suspended and weeping) after the loss that bounced gli Azzurri out of the Euros unconscionably early last summer]

Nicki is out

Nicki Legrottaglie has been broken for about a month. The Bianconeri have missed him. Dirtbunny has missed him. Nicki has been promoting his new book. It turns out that, like Ricky Kaka, Nicki belongs to Jesus. You know what I mean. You know exactly what I mean.

There is room on FC Dirtbunny for people who belong to Jesus. There is room in this world for people who belong to Jesus. It's OK to belong to Jesus.

It is not OK to refuse tolerance to the gay. Dirtbunny is gay-friendly and so is her football club. We love the gay. Not so much do we love the gay-haters.

Nicki's weird-ass comments and beliefs about the gay are not compatible with the Dirtbunny world-view. Love ya, babe, and love your game, but you're off the team--ooops, I mean side.

It's time

ADP: Please, Dirtbunny. What do I have to do?

Dirtbunny: Shhhhh. We don't want The Man to know.

ADP: But Dirtbunny, he figured it out a month ago.

Dirtbunny: No. He still thinks it's Gigi.

ADP: You are fooling yourself Dirtbunny. He knows.

Dirtbunny: No.

ADP: Dirtbunny, please, he knows. Everyone knows.

Dirtbunny: Hmm.

ADP: There is no point in pretending any longer.

Dirtbunny: Hmmm

ADP: I don't want to live a lie. Please. You must.

Dirtbunny: [says nothing--playing hard to get]

ADP: Bunny. Come on.

Dirtbunny: OK [hates to lose]

ADP: That's my girl. I was beginning to worry.

Dirtbunny: Oh, Alessa, you know I love you best. You're in. You always have been.

ADP: Do I have to play every minute of every game? Sometimes I just want to sit next to you.

Dirtbunny: Shhhh. We'll work something out.

Working through it

1. I still don't want to talk about the Bianconeri. There was no Bianconerijoy this week. And no Zlatanjoy. And no Merenguejoy. There is still the slim possibility for some Fabijoy. We'll see tonight when The Man gets home.

2. I finished everything on my to-do list so I came home early, liberated The Boys to the yard, where they both peed and pooped (Kirby is not a frequent pooper, so that was a surprise), and then they both had an unusually long sniff at the folding chairs on the 1.8 billion dollar deck. Seldom do they care about those chairs. I wondered. I pondered. And then--Eureka!--those chairs must still smell like the Old Folks' butts, which spent a few hours in them this weekend.

3. Now that you have been updated on the dogpoop situation, I have some other fabulous news for you. Because the weather was so nice last weekend (they're calling for snow tonight and tomorrow), I was out on the deck a lot and I got my first sunburn of 2009! Not a big one, but a sunburn just the same. The Calabrian forebears did not pass their olive complexions on to me (but thanks for all the extra hair--not). I am already recovered and am now duly reminded about the hat and the sun umbrella that I need even when it's overcast. Jeez.

4. Speaking of Calabrians, here's a bonus for ya.

Hasn't broken Bunny's heart.

Yet.

Maybe because he's broken.

I have a grey fringed scarf just like that!

Woe

Don't talk to me. Fucking Drogba.

This is Bullshit

That second yellow on Gio was an utter and complete farce. He got the ball. HE GOT THE BALL. Now he's sent off in minute 70 and the Bianconeri are doomed.


Scrooed and doomed.


This is too much for poor delicate Dirtbunny.

I need to take a break, and then I'll watch the end of the game.

The post about the Big Swede

Not this guy.

[lumberjack]

We love him, but he's merely a Big Swede.

This guy:

[roaring]

He's the Big Swede. He's the best futboller in the world, so of course, FC Dirtbunny has to have him.

Name: Zlatan Ibrahimovic

Occupation: Forward, Internazionale and Swedish International

Get over it. He's Swedish. His parents came from somewhere else but, jeez, if you're reading this, you're probably in the US of A, and I'll bet your people came from somewhere else somewhere down the road.

Zlatan: The Big Swede

See? It works just fine.

Dirtbunny doesn't have to justify any of her call-ups, and I hardly need to justify this one. But I will.

REASON NUMBER ONE

He is the best futboller in the world. Even better than the Delicate Princess over there on the right, no matter what FIFA says.

[I'm not the first to say this, but it was so apt I'll repeat it anyway. It looks like maybe Ujfi fouled Grygera, but who touched Cris?]

He's a very very large man, but he has skill and grace and he can bring the ball up the field and dribble and go around people and do cute little back-heel passes and headers and goals on the ground and goals going backwards from volley and goals pretty much anyway you can imagine and a few you haven't imagined yet. He's like Lionel Messi, only big and imposing and strong and a serious threat in the air. [*getting breathless just thinking about it*]

Whew. Slow down Dirtbunny.

REASON NUMBER TWO

He's hard on defenders, which is as it should be, because this is not golf.

[stiff-arming a big, tough Greek guy]

[he's pretty flexible, isn't he? Poor, poor little frightened Croatian nose on poor, poor number 4]

[not very kind to Croatian number 8 either]

[gettin' the best of Khaka Kaladze]

[Sergio Ramos' thought bubble, option 1: "Please don't hurt me Zlatan!']

[Sergio Ramos' thought bubble, option 2: "Not in the mouth! I need the lips for Raul!"]

REASON NUMBER THREE

He's a worthy opponent for Gio. They bring out the best in each other.

[makin' him work for it]

What Gio dishes out, Zlatan can take.

REASON NUMBER FOUR

This goal in the Euros against eventual champion Spain:

[Iker sprawled on the pitch, failing to save the goal. Sergio Ramos on his butt, failing to defend same.]

Iker spends most of his time sitting behind the goal in a smoking jacket, sipping a cognac whilst writing his memoirs. He is rarely called upon to do much. But he can do plenty when it is required of him. Some say he's the best goalie in the world. He's not. But he is one of the best.



If you can make Iker appear in this position in a photograph, ESPECIALLY IF THE BALL IS CLEARLY SHOWN IN THE GOAL BEHIND HIM, then you are doing something right.

Tangent: The Big Swede made Sergio Ramos look as unskilled as Dirtbunny in that game. Poor muscle-bound kid, sitting on his ass, staring at Iker's buttocks. Let me assure you, Sergio Ramos is no slouch. Nosirreebob he is not. He is a fine, fine, fullback, but he cannot keep the best futboller in the world from scoring.

REASON NUMBER FIVE

Love. Love is important.

[this photo is from last year. I see ADP has recurring problems with ghastly haircuts and that the most recent one is apparently part of a pattern]

Love stinks. Love hurts. Love is a battlefield.

But if you can get some love, love, love is all you need, blah blah blah. Or so I'm told. Personally, I wouldn't know.

REASON NUMBER SIX

Daddy, this part really isn't meant for you.


OK. Are we alone now? Good.

Reason number five is that Zlatan is hott.




Lordy, lordy, lordy, can he rock the bitchpose or what?

It's not that hard to find photos of him without his shirt, or pants, or wearing a towel, or showing off his tatoos, but we wouldn't want your computer to explode.

REASON NUMBER SEVEN

Dude works hard to be cool. However, when he's really, really happy, and doing what he loves, he forgets about the game face and becomes the biggest dork EVER.

[Zlatan likes to play with the ball.]

[Gee guys, isn't this cool? We get paid for this. Can you believe it?]

[Golly! Trophies are fun!]

And then, there's the Zlatanjoy!

He's not too cool fer skool, he only plays too cool fer skool on TV.

I bet he listens to ABBA when no one's around.

olof olof olof

Dear Lord. Finger guns. Nay! DOUBLE finger guns.

Good gravy but you have to love someone who is so completely himself. I bet his publicist thinks he's a nightmare.

REASON NUMBER EIGHT

He needs me.

Oh God, how desperately he needs me. Trust me, I would never, never let this happen again.

Still not watching

Plus, the cable may be effed up. Oh, well.

[Azzurri at the Euros last summer: Fabi (mouthbreathing), Gio (possibly about to hurl), ADP (checking contents of nose while in halfbitchpose), Luca (in bitchpose), CamoranesiCamoranesiCamoranesi (grinding teeth), and Gian (checking the hair)]

Football = suffering

P.S. Spell-check recognizes the word "effed."

Hey Rangers Fan!

Just because you're busted doesn't mean you aren't welcome anymore.


The Man and I watched Liverpool and Real Madrid yesterday. We started the Juve game, but it was late, and when Pavel went down inside the first five minutes, I lost my nerve and decided to go to bed. So I don't know what happened yet. I'll watch tonight. In the meantime, I'll have to stay off the interwebs so I don't spoil the suspense.

Catching up with Dirtbunny

1. Because I haven't felt like blogging. That's why.

2. Well, I do think Italian soccer players are interesting.

3. That's between me and ADP.

4. FC Dirtbunny is not about the looks.

Hotness is not the reason for loving Gio. He's got charisma, but not beauty.

Gigi isn't exactly beautiful either, and I cannot condone that jacket unless he is poor and got it from a charity drive, which seems unlikely, somehow.

And beauty is not enough to get Marco Borriello a call-up. Did you know that doing a Google Image search on Borri is likely to turn up nekkid or half-nekkid photos of him and various females that are NSFW? Keep it clean, and do it at home.

5. Speaking of did you know, Did you know that pretty much all futbollers bear the unmistakable mark of the ancient broken nose? Go back and look for yourself. Even Borri. I guess they've all gotten smashed in the face with the ball at some point.

6. Yes, we did have weather last week.

Rather a lot of it.

But it was 75 degrees yesterday, and so it's all gone now.

7. Did you know that Yarn Bandit would much rather not go out in the snow. If you don't mind, he'd rather just pee on the rug, thank you very much.

8. On the other hand, Bunny's Special Sweetheart likes the snow. It's one of those few things that provokes actual frolicking. He has a little problem with the whole en fuego yeast infection again. He likes to lick his paws, and they're itchy because of the allergies, so he licks them a lot, which makes for a nice warm, damp home for little beasties to grow. So we thought it was gone, but then he licked new holes in his paws. So we put him in a donut, because he hates the satellite dish:

That was comfy enough, and it pushed his ears forward and made him even cuter than usual. But he could still reach the tops of his feet, if not the bottoms, and so the bottoms got better but he licked a new hole in the top of his foot.

Now he has a new and improved satellite dish that's padded and a little flexible, but keeps him from reaching his paws. He's OK with it, but he doesn't love it.

When we're around to watch him, we'll take it off him unless/until he starts up with the licking.

He can sleep in it even. And we have figured out how to get the medicine between his toes without traumatizing him or getting bitten. Ugh. This is a long-term issue for which the dish is not a very good solution, but first we still have to do the cancer thing.

He's totally worth it.

[I love him so much. *sobs*]

9. This week on The Amazing Race, it was a descent to the lowest common denominator as the contestants went to Siberia. First stop was a huge hydroelectric dam that appears on one of the ruble notes. Built during the Soviet era, it bore one of those giant propaganda posters so popular with the communists back then. Perhaps you recognize this guy:

His image provoked confusion on some teams. One team took a vote and decided that he must have been the guy who built the dam. Okay then.

Next, they had to unscramble a whopping six letters to reveal the name of a Russian playwright. I can name a bunch of Russian authors off the top of my head, but only one playwright. How about you?

Anyway, these are the letters: H V E K H C O

How to solve? How to solve? [muses, wonders]

I get stuck with those letters and I say, "Neato! I only know one Russian playwright and those are his letters." If you are The Man listening from the other room and you don't know what the letters are, you can guess the playwright's name by hollering out "It's Chekhov, isn't it?"

One team solved the puzzle by looking at the letters and saying "Chekhov. Everyone knows Chekhov."

One team solved the puzzle by thinking, "I hope it's Chekhov because that's the only Russian playwright I know."

One team solved the puzzle by thinking, OK Russian names end in sounds like "ski" and "ov." Seeing no letter combination that ended in "ski," they went with "ov" and worked backwards from there.

Every other team solved the puzzle by randomly guessing and trying for letter combinations that might make actual sounds.

The deaf guy had it rough because he didn't learn to read the way we all did (by associating the letters with sounds) and he strung together some fairly discordant letter combinations, but he still got it faster than some of the other teams.

This show used to be smart. sigh

10. Futbol = suffering (mostly)

[do you see the little broken nose bump up there?]

Champions League tomorrow. Don't call me. I'll be drunk-slash-busy.